


Undead everywhere! About zombies, death knights and ranger lords.

by Hedonick



Series: BfA/SL: Interludes [6]
Category: World of Warcraft, World of Warcraft - Various Authors
Genre: Eastern Plaguelands, F/M, Icecrown - Freeform, Orgrimmar, World of Warcraft: Battle for Azeroth, World of Warcraft: Shadowlands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-15 08:14:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28810215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hedonick/pseuds/Hedonick
Summary: Fate didn’t grant Levaindil Autumnleaf much time to enjoy life after the defeat of N’Zoth. Only a short time later, the Scourge suddenly starts ravaging freely across Azeroth and several leaders of the Horde and the Alliance get kidnapped by dark forces. Helping out the Argent Crusade in Icecrown against the undead she makes some new acquaintances, and later on discovers a surprising side on her demon hunter consort during their encounter with Nathanos Blightcaller and Tyrande Whisperwind.
Series: BfA/SL: Interludes [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2041546
Kudos: 1





	Undead everywhere! About zombies, death knights and ranger lords.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again!  
> Welcome to the sixth and last part of my second series, which takes place after the events mentioned in the previous series (BfA: Biografies).  
> This episode will focus fully on the period of the Shadowlands Pre-Patch 9.0.1 as witnessed by my blood elf huntress. It will help to establish her character some more and to further set her story up for what is to come in the Shadowlands…

This world… this life never ceased to amaze her. She had lived through the shattering of her world by deathwing, she had traveled to different timelines, she had seen foreign worlds being moved from one place to another like toys and had visited them as easily as if they were just a stone’s throw away. And now... now there was a giant hole in the sky. A hole. In the sky.

It wasn’t the first time that Levaindil visited Icecrown since the event had happened, but each time she stepped out of the portal to the Argent Tournament Grounds, the view stunned her anew. The ever gray and cloudy sky above the Icecrown Citadel looked as if a bunch of rascals had dropped a heavy stone onto the surface of a frozen lake. A huge circular hole now gaped over Northrend, marked by sharp, splintering edges which still rained shards of ice – or glass – _upwards_ , but instead of water, an eerie brown and orange illuminated layer of otherworldly clouds could be seen beneath, reportedly belonging to the realm of the dead.

Even after everything she had undergone up until this day, if she had been told that someone had smashed a hole into the sky and – by doing so – into the world of the living, Levaindil wasn’t sure if she would have believed it without seeing it for herself. But the unthinkable had been done; accomplished by Sylvanas Windrunner. When that had become known, it had a strangely calming effect on Levaindil. At first, she had only felt dread. She – like most of the inhabitants of Azeroth – had still been in a delirium of joy from the previous victory against N’Zoth, knowing that their world had been saved once more from a grievous threat, when this new catastrophe had hit them. That it had been initiated by one of their own – however powerful Sylvanas had become – had convinced Levaindil that they also could somehow fix this by themselves. An incredibly calming thought.

The shaggy, silver furred wolf beside her gave an unsettled sound somewhere between a growl and a howl, making Levaindil pull her gaze away from the sky. She fished a slice of dried meat out of her bags and tossed it to the animal which reacted immediately and caught the treat mid air.

“Good boy. You only have to stay patient a little while longer. We’ll soon be some place less populated.”

Maybe she should have come here without an animal companion after all. The Ghostpaw Alpha hadn’t liked it at all to be brought into Orgrimmar, and the Argent Tournament Grounds weren’t much less crowded at the moment. Since she was on the road by herself, she had decided to bring along a pet to get her duties done more quickly. However, if the animal bailed on her now, she would continue on her own, even if it slowed her down a little, since she needed to pick her fights more carefully. To spare the only half tame wolf some distress, she hurried up and quickly went over to Justicar Mariel Trueheart and Veteran Crusader Aliocha, the Argent Crusade officers who coordinated the fight against the Scourge here in Icecrown.

Soon after, she was flying on the back of her Clutch of Ji-Kun towards Sindragosa’s Fall, the Ghostpaw running along on the ground beneath them, easily keeping pace. She wasn’t flying as fast as her mount could have gone, on the one hand to give the wolf the chance to keep up, and on the other hand, a small storm had broken out, hence the sight in the flurry of snow wasn’t good. According to her experiences in the past week, the blizzard wouldn’t go on for long though, and so she had already set out on the daily quests offered to her.

It was worrying how fast the Scourge and the Cult of the Damned had risen in power. Only about a week past, an immense ripple of power had pulsed though Azeroth, leaving everyone in alarm. Not much later, emissaries of the Ebon Blade had contacted the faction leaders. Despite the Horde’s and the Alliance’s efforts to find Sylvanas Windrunner after her disappearance in front of Orgimmar’s gates, nobody had been able to find a clue to her whereabouts; up until then. She had appeared out of nowhere in front of Icecrown Citadel and had strolled up to the Lich King’s seat of power as if the place belonged to her personally. She had bested Bolvar Fordragon as if he was nothing but a common soldier and had destroyed the Helm of Domination, the later action setting free the Scourge and resulting in the shattering of the sky, tearing apart the veil between the world of the living and the dead. Before anyone had time to react to the incredible news, dark creatures on feathery wings had attacked several faction leaders. Thrall and Baine Bloodhoof had been abducted out of the midst of their loved ones, and on the side of the Alliance reportedly the same had happened to Anduin Wrynn and Jaina Proudmoore. Only Tyrande Whisperwind had been able to beat back her attackers, thanks to her powers as the Night Warrior.

Now, the remaining leaders of both factions and the Argent Crusade, specialized in the combat against the Scourge, already had their hands full with the fight against the undead and their allies. All over Azeroth, Infectious Zombies or plagued vermin appeared frequently which swiftly spread their disease to everyone who made contact with them. Acharin and some of the other demon hunters, whose combat groups had been disbanded or set on hold after the defeat of N’Zoth, had joined the task forces which were sent to fight against the undead. As an independent mercenary, Levaindil had volunteered to join them this morning. After hours of fighting brainless, walking corpses in company of an Argent Healer who had to cleanse them regularly of the plague to keep them from turning into zombies themselves, she had finally decided to take a break from the clean up duty in the afternoon, instead making her way here. In Icecrown, the Cult of the Damned had allied with the smarter part of the Scourge which had started to assemble around the former seat of the Lich King. Together they were now trying to expel the Argent Crusade from their territory.

Levaindil halted and dismounted, when she spotted robed figures concentrated on a magical ritual some distance off on the glacier. Four members of the Cult of the Damned were standing above a crack in the ice, where the skeleton of a dead dragon had been enveloped long ago by the now frozen snow and rain. They were trying to turn it into an undead dragon with their foul magic. She would stop them.

She carefully took aim with her bow, a silent command sending the Ghostpaw beside her racing towards the figures. At the same time as the wolf jumped snarling at one of the cultists, her arrow struck another one so hard, it toppled the woman from her feet. With a quick additional command, Levaindil signaled her wolf to turn his attack to the third figure, now occupying the attention of two of the Wyrm Reanimators. The last one hastily interrupted his casting, instead turning and starting to weave a spell in her direction.

“Well, that’s kind of you”, she murmured more to herself than to the enemy who – by casting without moving – remained an easy target. Levaindil threw quickly and the Freezing Trap hurled through the air, unerringly landing at the feet of the cultist. It immediately caught him in a solid block of ice, interrupting his spell. Without any trouble, Levaindil finished off the woman who had already been severely harmed by her Aimed Shot with some additional Arcane Shots, then she proceeded to help her animal companion with his two attackers. A Rapid Fire of arrows killed one of them, before she dwindled down the third one’s health with some Steady Shots, fully restoring her own Focus. She rewarded the effort of the Ghostpaw with a little healing who was now obediently waiting in front of the last, still frozen cultist. Once more Levaindil took careful aim at her target. The mighty Shot shattered the ice and hit true, as did the clutches of the wolf, allowing the huntress to finish off the last Wyrm Reanimator with a Kill Shot.

After that, she and her wolf made short work of the many Frostbrood Whelps which were still prowling the area. Happy with the result of the temporarily undead-free area, Levaindil turned to call her mount again. For today, they had reduced the amount of frostwyrms enough which could be sent into battle to attack the defenders out of the sky. But another quest still awaited her.

During her fight with the Whelps the blizzard had completely stopped, and so she now flew a little faster up the glacier, but still close to the ground. She paused a few times on her way towards Scourgeholme, not only to let the running shaggy wolf catch up, but also to check on the other fights going on. She wasn’t the only one who had been set to the task of stopping the foul rituals of the Reanimators. However, none of the combatants seemed in need of her help, and for a change they all prioritized the threat of the cultists over the presence of enemy faction members, ignoring them mostly or giving them a wide berth.

Pleased, she continued her flight. She had just circled around a protruding mountain formation that would have given her animal companion a hard time climbing, and was merging on the Pit of Fiends, when she noticed a disturbance in the otherwise untouched layer of snow before her and heard the clanking of steel meeting steel.

She slowed her mount to a halt and silently hovered in the air, carefully analyzing the scene before her. In the mostly snow free area of the Pit a sin’dorei paladin with long, fair hair, wearing the tabard of the Argent Crusade was fighting against a black haired death knight who seemed to be another blood elf at first glance, but turned out to be a ren’dorei on a closer look.

“…and you still have the nerve to continue using his name!”, the paladin yelled enraged, standing some distance away from the death knight after his last blows had been parried by the runeforged blade, and a kick aimed at his knee had forced him to retreat a few steps. “You turned into the very thing he fought against.”

“Death knights don’t belong to the Scourge anymore!” The void elf replied likewise in Thalassian, narrowly sidestepping the glowing Blade of Justice which suddenly emerged from the ground beneath him, warned of the attack only by the increasing golden glow enveloping his opponent.

In response to the attack, he swiftly gestured at the ground, where a circular area was suddenly surrounded by red glowing runes, the earth inside the circle starting to throw bubbles as if a bucket of boiling blood had been poured over it. If he had intended to hit the sin’dorei with the Death and Decay, his aim had been off though, because the spell only affected the ground between him and the paladin.

“That’s just what your kind wants to make us believe!”, the blood elf objected scornful, intending to step around the area of effect on the bone covered floor. His movement was immediately countered by icy chains, slipping up from the ground and entwining his legs. “And after all that happened recently….” He swiftly escaped the chains with a Blessing of Freedom.

The death knight mirrored the other elf’s steps into the opposite direction around the Death and Decay, his hands emanating a blue glow, when he summoned the chains once more, as soon as the spell preventing him from reapplying them vanished from around the paladin. “That was none of Fordragon’s doing. Sylvanas….”

“Nobody still sworn to the Light was witness to that!”, the paladin interrupted the void elf’s words, “And I’m not only talking about you being a bloody death knight.” The Chains of Ice fell off, and a sudden Blinding Light emanated from the paladin, obscuring his opponent’s view, while he charged at him sword ready, enveloped by a glowing Shield of Vengeance. “I just hope for Kath’dril’s sake that his soul never has to find out that you forswore the Light and now belong to the Void!”

Once more, the death knight managed to parry the sin’dorei’s sword strokes, his body now covered in a protective layer of frost which also prevented the worst, when the glowing shield surrounding the paladin suddenly exploded. He pushed the attacker’s sword away in another parry, exposing the fair haired elf to a counterattack. Instead of taking the opportunity, the ren’dorei cast a spell, which lifted the paladin from his feet, a shadowy hand clutching his throat, and bought himself the time to once more put some distance between them. “I didn’t… void elves don’t _belong_ to the Void, they can only access its power!”

“Shut up!”, the sin’dorei shouted when he dropped back to the floor, still grasping for air, “I’m not interested in the lies you tell yourself to excuse your existence.” He disdainfully stared at the newly summoned area of Death and Decay between him and the death knight. “Run all you want. In your place, I would have killed myself as soon as I opened my cursed, undead eyes. That’s what a true Dawncaller would have done!” He lifted his sword up to the air which started to blaze with holy energy.

The death knight’s eyes widened in alarm, just before the Final Reckoning struck from the sky above him; a wide pillar of light crushing down upon him. The brightness made Levaindil avert her gaze for a moment, and when she could see again, she was relieved to see the ren’dorei still standing, surrounded by a wobbling, blue Anti-Magic Shell which seemed to have saved him in the last instant. The paladin was already setting himself up for yet another attack, but Levaindil had seen enough. She jumped from her mount, pulling forth her bow and knocking an arrow at the same time.

“Stop this madness!”, she yelled in Thalassian.

The Binding Shot struck the ground in between the two combatants, stopping the advance of the paladin short who turned in irritation, only examining her with a swift glance.

“This is none of your business, huntress”, he somberly stated, turning his attention back to the death knight.

“Yes it is!” Levaindil stepped forward decisively, while she silently ordered her animal companion to stay back where it was. “I don’t recall the Argent Crusade declare war on the Knights of the Ebon Blade.” She glanced from the still angry blood elf over to the void elf who had picked up a defensive stance once more, warily observing not only the paladin’s but also her movements. “So far I’ve only seen an ally attack another ally, while our common enemy still wages war against us!”

She pointedly lowered her elaborate bow and slung it on her back once more, focusing her attention fully on the sin’dorei who watched her with narrowed eyes. She returned his gaze, not feeling the least bit impressed. In a firm and calm voice she coaxed: “It’s time to abandon your personal grudges and recall your true foes, paladin!”

It took him some time, but eventually the blond elf lowered his weapon grudgingly. Without any explanation or words of excuse, he blew a whistle, summoning his mount.

“If I ever see your face again; don’t think I will let you walk away a second time!”, he spat the stubborn words at the death knight and then spurred his Argent Hippogryph into a hasty start from the ground, taking off in the direction of the Tournament Grounds.

“Thank you for the interference”, the death knight said in his kind’s typical chilly and slightly echoing voice. He finally relaxed his stance, sheathing his sword and tucked some strands of straggly black hair back from his face which stood in stark contrast to his deathly pale skin.

“No need to thank me for that”, Levaindil declared matter-of-factly and then admitted with a smile: “Your restraint to strike back at your opponent impressed me. I’m not sure I would have been so patient.”

“I didn’t want to harm him. Sadly, since we... last met, Sunborn seems to have turned into a… shortsighted fanatic.” A grim expression crossed the void elf’s face, but was replaced by curiosity swiftly after. “I have to admit that I was initially worried you would join the fight on his side.”

“Understandable, although faction ties shouldn’t matter any longer in regard to members of the Argent Crusade. I can assure you, that danger was nonexistent.”

“And if she’d tried to do so, I would have stopped her”, a voice out of nowhere announced.

Startled, Levaindil reacted without thinking, activating her Aspect of the Turtle which surrounded her with a transparent but highly protective shell. Her eyes darted to the slim figure who had just appeared out of the shadows right beside her and was easily distinguishable as another ren’dorei by the dark void-blue color of his hair. The rogue stepped to the death knight’s side, offering her an astute smile over his shoulder, and then lifted his hands in a gesture which at the same time signaled an excuse and clearly showed his empty hands, indicating that he didn’t mean her any harm.

Still. Levaindil examined the newcomer carefully. The realization that he could have Sapped and maybe even killed her at any time, without leaving her a chance to react, was unsettling. She hadn’t noticed his presence or suspicious tracks in the snow at all. He had to be quite skilled; normally she was able to catch at least hints of someone in Stealth nearby, despite being distracted. The only now rising, low growl from her animal companion showed that she hadn’t been the only one fooled. She soothed the Ghostpaw, but nonetheless called him silently to her side, letting a hand rest in the thick fur on his neck. Just to be on the safe side.

The death knight wasn’t less surprised, even though his reaction was completely different. “Saewron! So, you managed to pull a stop to your discussion with Crystal Brightspark after all? I can’t believe it.”

If she recalled correctly, that was the name of the gnome alchemist who had sent her on the still pending quest for Mature Spore Samples which were needed for the alternative defense research.

The rogue chuckled softly. “Sorry. If I’d known that you would pick a fight with a member of your old order as soon as I let you out of sight….”

“I wouldn’t exactly describe being shot out of the sky with a net as _picking_ a fight”, the death knight corrected with a snort, rubbing a sore shoulder. “I was lucky I didn’t fly further above the ground, or the fall alone would have probably knocked me out, despite the cushioning snow.”

The second ren’dorei’s expression turned apprehensive. “I know. I’ve seen your fall. I wasn’t that far behind you. But you’re all right, yes?”

Following the death knight’s reassurance, the blue haired void elf switched his attention back to Levaindil who felt her tension eased by the amicable words between the two, which reconfirmed her earlier estimation of them as being decent people.

“Thanks also from my end, huntress. I didn’t really know what to do”, the rogue gave an abashed laugh and then shrugged, “I just had the feeling that I wasn’t the right person to stop that fight, even though I would have liked to. My meddling probably would have only made matters worse.”

“I think you’re right. Being confronted by the two of you wouldn’t have made that paladin back down”, Levaindil agreed, remembering the blond sin’dorei’s words which also made her recall something else, she’d incidentally noticed during the previous fight. “He named you Dawncaller. Are you related to Kath’dril Dawncaller?”

“Yes, we are two of his sons”, the death knight answered hesitantly.

Brothers then, not simply friends. Levaindil also caught the shadow which crossed the black haired void elf’s features accompanying his words. Hardly surprising, considering the former accusing words from the paladin. She felt a sudden wave of compassion for the death knight. Like Acharin, he’d undergone a transformation which was condemned by many. Since she knew that Kath’dril Dawncaller, the famous sin’dorei paladin and former quel’dorei battle priest, had died fighting against the Burning Legion, this also meant that his son – unlike Acharin had been given the chance with her – couldn’t ask this person, who had obviously meant a lot to him, after their opinion on the matter, leaving him in an inconvenient situation. A sudden impulse made her speak.

“In that case, I’m especially honored to meet the both of you”, she stated sincerely, “As far as your actions here show, you share your father’s noble attitude. After what I’ve heard about him from the stories, he called everyone his friend who fought for the innocent, regardless of their beliefs… or race… or past transgressions.”

“That’s true, you heard right. Even though that paladin spoke as if he knew our father well, he spouted a lot of nonsense”, the rogue swiftly picked up on her words, honoring her with a gesture which was even among sin’dorei only very rarely used to formally express one’s acknowledgment, before he addressed his brother: “You know that too, don’t you, Naethir?”

The death knight didn’t react at first, but then answered something in a lowered voice in Common which Levaindil couldn’t quite make out, accompanied by a nod of his head in her direction. The rogue stayed silent for a while, keeping a serious expression and a series of gazes worth a whole conversation passed between them, before he shrugged once more.

“As you wish. But I won’t simply let you get away with it – _this time_ ”, he replied still in Thalassian.

The death knight seized the rogues shoulder in a gesture of acknowledgment and his brother firmly clasped his hand for a moment, in affirmation of the feeling. The intimacy of the exchange made Levaindil feel like an unwelcome intruder for a moment and she unwitting started to fiddle with her thick braid, but the rogue’s cheerful next words dispelled the sentiment quickly.

“Now, I would really like to see these mushrooms! Crystal said they _eat_ zombie corpses. That simply has to be awesome!” The sudden enthusiasm made him practically beam, when he asked her: “Are you going in that direction, too… um, and what’s your name, by the way?”

Slightly taken by surprise, she explained: “Levaindil Autumnleaf. And yes, I am. Those mushrooms were the reason why I was heading in this direction in the first place.”

“Perfect!”, he dug up a whistle from some pocket, whose call summoned a big, blue fox. The mount gave a merry bark, clearly sensing his rider’s mood and jumped energetically into the sky, unfolding almost transparent wings. It stopped again some distance above the ground and the rogue eagerly called back down to them: “Well, what are you two waiting for?”

The death knight shook his head in a hint of amusement. “Typically Saew. First I can barely pry him loose from his books, but as soon as he hears about some creepy plant, he can’t wait to see it with his own eyes.”

Levaindil laughed in sympathy and then followed the invitation from above, summoning her feathery friend, while the death knight called forth a skeletal dragon not unlike the ones she earlier had stopped from being reanimated, before they spurred their mounts toward Scourgeholme, to catch up to the rogue on his Vulpine Familiar.

–.o.O.o.–

Soon after their arrival at the depression between the ruins captured by the Scourge, where the Gloomshrooms grew, she still said her farewells to the two ren’dorei brothers and went on to collect her own spore samples, since working together would only have complicated things.

With their teamwork they were distinctly faster, and she plus her Ghostpaw were still tending to the growing mushrooms, when she noticed the death knight – most likely to avoid another encounter with the paladin of the Argent Crusade – fly off in the direction of Dalaran, while only the rogue turned towards where they had come from.

Some time later, she had finally gathered the requested amount of spores, even though she had been forced to restart the growth of her fungi several times, because some people who didn’t realize they had to properly feed the mushrooms before the harvest had felled them early, thinking they were actually _helping_ her. Otherwise pleased by the course of the afternoon – having met nice people and having accomplished her duties – Levaindil set out on her flight back towards the Argent Tournament Grounds.

Shortly after passing by Quel’Delar’s Rest, she already spotted from afar a familiar figure fighting against the undead which attacked the wide area around the pavilions and the shingle covered buildings.

Laughing, she landed beside Acharin. “Really, haven’t you fought enough zombies for today already?”

“Better than doing nothing while waiting for you!”, he called back and quickly finished off the undead before him. Then he sheathed his warglaives and catapulted himself to her side with a burst of fel energy.

Unsettled by the sudden approach, the Ghostpaw Alpha gave a menacing growl, crouching down and readying himself to attack. Acharin only cocked his head and growled defiantly right back at the wolf.

“Oh stop that, both of you!”

Her animal companion complied obediently, but warily moved off a few paces, keeping his eyes attentively on the demon hunter.

Acharin grinned, welcoming her with a quick kiss. “Won’t you allow us to have a little fun? A brawl with that fur ball would have been a nice change to the zombies.”

She punched him playfully against his chest. “Don’t underestimate that _fur ball_. He was very helpful this past hours killing cultists and undead.”

“I’m still fairly certain, he couldn’t put a scratch on me.”

“Probably. But to be frank, I also wasn’t worried about you. I promised my animal friend to return him safely to his home in Ashenvale after this afternoon together. I won’t let you cross my plans, now that we already made it back here in one piece.”

“Return him?”, Acharin inquired in surprise, “Aren’t you usually keeping him in a stable or something like that?”

She shook her head. “No, I only tamed him in the Nightsong Woods shortly before coming here. The last time I owned a permanent animal companion was a long time ago.”

“I see! I’ve wondered a few times why I only see you so rarely with a pet, but it always slipped my mind later on. Don’t you like relying on them?”, he smiled roguishly, “I could totally understand that.”

Levaindil knew that an animal companion didn’t offer much to the Illidari which he couldn’t do just as well or better thanks to his demonic powers, and the natural instincts of a tamed beast only meant a weakness to him in regard to a battle. Partially she even agreed with him. “I do like animals, actually very much. But in my opinion they simply don’t belong in a cage or onto a battlefield, no matter how well trained they are. That’s why I usually go about my business without an animal companion. But when I’m on the road out in the wild, I still often prefer their company. In those cases I just temporarily tame a native beast to work with me for a short time.”

“But you brought that wolf here with you, all the way from Kalimdor?”, the demon hunter scratched the back of his head clearly puzzled.

“Yes, because the Scourge scared off all the beasts in this area!”

“But there are still frostwyrms and gargoyles around.”

She examined her dear friend with a raised eyebrow, surprised by his lack of understanding. “So? I’m not a death knight. I can’t tame any undead beings.”

“I know, I know”, he explained quickly, “But... haven’t the forsaken lately discovered a way to tame even those animals? I heard rumors and I thought as a hunter you surely would know everything about that already.”

“Indeed”, she chuckled, “They learned how to tame _undead_ _beasts_ , not undead in general.”

“There’s a difference between those?!”

Now she couldn’t keep her self from laughing out loud. “Oh yes, a big one at that. And there you go, making fun of me for not being able to distinguish every race of demons from the next”, she teased.

“Well, _that_ is also really important!”, he said, crossing his arms and turning away from her in mock pouting.

She giggled some more, affectionately hugging him from behind.

–.o.O.o.–

About an hour later, they were seated on one of the bridges crossing the Valley of Spirits. Before, Levaindil had – as promised – returned the Ghostpaw Alpha to his home and grabbed herself something for dinner in the central inn of the troll’s quarter in Orgrimmar. Like most of the time, Acharin had only picked something to drink for himself while keeping her company, usually contenting himself with the meals enjoyed together with the other Illidari. Whenever he felt like it, he still snatched something away from her food, but usually, that was a unique event during one of her meals.

Although demon hunters could in theory eat the same as her, Levaindil had learned by now that many of them had completely lost their interest in common – fel-free – food. She assumed it had something to do with the sensitivity of their taste buds. Whenever Acharin showed some more interest in whatever she was eating, it was when she had accidentally picked out something that wasn’t to her liking at all and tasted too spicy by far.

She had just finished her dinner when a commotion from the direction of the Valley of Strength started to draw crowds of armed people.

“Another zombie outbreak?”, Acharin guessed, rose quickly and offered her a hand.

“Let’s find out!” She let herself be pulled to her feet, and moments later they already flew towards Grommash Hold.

The reason for the excitement weren’t any zombies this time, but it still had something to do with an undead: hints about Nathanos Bligthcaller’s whereabouts had reached the War Council and emergency task forces were being organized.

Levaindil and Acharin were still asking around for an officer, getting pushed around by the many combatants gathered in front of the Hold, when a raspy voice called out behind them.

“Over here!”

Acharin turned and effortlessly spotted his fellow Illidari Shanara Painweaver further back towards the Gates of Orgrimmar. Together they stepped beside her moments later.

“Hurry up! We’ve already wasted precious time because I couldn’t find you right away!”

“What’s up?”

“What do you think?”, the female demon hunter countered fierce as always, “Rael’nar won’t be able to save you a place in his party forever. We have to go!”

“And what about Levaindil?”, Acharin asked, gesturing in her direction.

The blond Illidari only snorted and beckoned them to follow her. As soon as they entered the Pathfinder’s Den, Shanara turned left, heading for the portal to Silvermoon.

On the balcony in front of the Court of the Sun, they came across a mixed group of fighters assembled around another Illidari who Levaindil knew quite well by now.

Rael’nar Shadowblade noticed their approach immediately, waving Acharin to his side and offering Levaindil a respectful nod, the foxtail at the back of his head with the threads of silver in his otherwise dark red hair bouncing with the movement.

While they were already moving in formation through Murder Row and towards the Walk of Elders, the older Illidari quickly informed them that an Argent Crusade courier had brought the message of a patrol from Light’s Hope who had found the Banshee’s Champion at Marris Stead. They held Nathanos Blightcaller surrounded in front of his old home, but required help to take him down.

After leaving the city through Shepherd’s Gate, they were offered the swiftest dragonhawks by Skymistress Gloaming, granting them a smooth ride towards the Crown Guard Tower in the Eastern Plaguelands.

Looking down at her home kingdom from the flying mount, Levaindil felt a pang of nostalgia. Usually, when she returned here, she took more time to visit her family and to dwell in the – even after the Scourge’s attack during the Third War – beautiful city plus the woods surrounding it. She pulled herself together forcefully, focusing on the task ahead and told herself that she would have time enough for a stay, after the current attacks of the Scourge had been brought under control. From experience she also knew that despite her present longing, she would quickly feel the urge to leave Quel’Thalas again following her return; hearing the irresistible call of the wide world.

The view – and smell – of the Plaguelands swiftly scattered her previous thoughts. The Ghostlands had already been badly changed by the Scourge’s presence, but the Eastern Plaguelands were on a whole different level. The once fertile land with its forests had been turned into a nightmare version of itself. Despite the Argent Crusade’s efforts to restore the area, the plants and the ground were still mostly dead and the scent of rot and decay lay heavily in the air, forcing Levaindil to start breathing through her mouth instead of her nose. Immense fungi grew on the sickly deformed vegetation and emanated clouds of foul spores to their surroundings.

The Crown Guard Tower appeared in front of them as a green isle in the ocean of wilted brown and red. They immediately set out towards their target which could already be seen on a hill to the west. It soon became obvious that they weren’t the only ones who had received the appeal for help by the Argent Crusade. Many wanted to seize this chance for payback against the Banshee Queen or at least her Champion. Several other Horde combatants and many Alliance fighters merged on Marris Stead at the same time as them. Levaindil could only hope that the presence of the Argent Crusade and most of all their common prey would keep them from each other’s throats.

However, something about the whole situation made her very nervous. Why hadn’t Blightcaller tried to flee? If he’d actually intended to do so, the few men of the patrol wouldn’t have stood a chance against him. Why did it almost seem as if he was waiting for their – or someone else’s – arrival? What was his true intention for coming here – to his old home – of all places, where he was most likely to be found?

“Careful. Stay away from the old house and keep your senses alert. This smells like a trap”, Rael’nar spoke her yet unvoiced worries a moment later.

Levaindil could feel Acharin beside her tense even more in answer to the other Illidari’s words and they all silently readied their weapons, while they fanning out and slowly surrounding their target. Sneaking wasn’t the right word, because considering their numbers and the lack of proper cover on the hill aside from the few dry trees, it was clear to everyone, that Nathanos Blightcaller was well aware of their presence.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t Azeroth’s mightiest _champions_.” His suddenly ringing out voice broke the eerie silence which had settled between all of them and confirmed Levaindil’s expectation. “Congratulations! You’ve managed to track me to the most unlikely of places... my very own home.” Sarcasm dripped richly from each and every one of his words, while he slowly, mockingly clapped his hands and calmly turned in a circle, taking in their faces. The two hounds at his side growled, ready to protect their master. “Seeking retribution for all the _bad_ , _bad_ things I’ve done, I suppose? How frightfully predictable.”

His words made Levaindil’s hair stand on end, calling forth every one of her worries and her survival instincts started to scream at her, begging her to retreat and search out clues indicating what was really going on here. It didn’t come to that. From somewhere out of the ranks of combatants a Pyroblast hurled into Blightcaller’s direction and hit him straight in the face. Nathanos only laughed, shrugging the attack off like a gust of warm wind.

“I’ve been waiting a long time for this. Let’s get on with it, shall we?”

The tense calm surrounding the present members of the Horde and the Alliance shattered entirely and the fight began. Melee attackers, pets, spells and arrows flew forward at the single undead human standing at the center of the ruinous stead. Acharin quickly turned toward her, checking for her reaction, before he, too, shot into the direction of their quarry with a Fel Rush, after she’d nocked an arrow and drew.

It turned into a chaotic fight, mainly because of the number of combatants present. The two undead Darkhounds constantly hunted down some of their master’s attackers and got immediately revived by him if they were brought down. Nathanos himself let Rains of Arrows fall down from the sky and sent a hail of arrows after everyone catching his eye, infecting them with a plague that left puddles of toxic gas beneath their feet which not only affected themselves but also bystanders. Seemingly endless hits landed on the Banshee’s Champion, but none of the weapons or spells seemed to seriously harm him. During the course of the whole fight, the former Ranger Lord continued to throw insults their way, mocking them for their futile efforts to bring him down.

Could he really be that powerful, that not even several dozens of Azeroth’s most skilled fighters could harm him seriously? Levaindil was just starting to ask herself if Nathanos Blighcaller wasn’t only undead, but also immortal, when the sun suddenly turned dark.

The unexpected eclipse made everyone freeze in their action, the combatants of the different factions and the Banshee’s Champion alike. All of them realized at once that something unusual was happening. Something or someone was coming. But who?

Mists started to rise all around them, obscuring the view, although Blightcaller could still be seen, standing in a once more empty zone, while the melee attackers around him fell back as a precaution. Nobody wanted to be hit first by some possible, exceptional attack coming directly from him.

Alarmed, Levaindil flinched, when a winged figure glided out of the fog toward her and landed close by.

“Sorry!”, Acharin whispered, “But do you have any idea what’s going on?”

She only shook her head, her heart still in her throat, but his presence – after her initial fright – immediately comforted her and took away some of her tension. Practiced, they adapted a defensive stance back to back, as ready as they could be in the current situation for any attacks out of all directions. Incidentally Levaindil noticed other groups of combatants in the mists nearby follow suit.

An anguished cry from Nathanos drew the attention of both of them a moment later. An arrow out of nowhere had struck him in the shoulder with such force that he’d been pushed against the wall of the old house behind him.

He chuckled, freeing himself. “Ah, now... now it’s getting interesting.”

Levaindil grasped quietly, when suddenly a familiar and at the same time very alien figure appeared, emerging from the mist and calmly walking towards Nathanos Blightcaller, accompanied by a huge owl.

Tyrande Whisperwind, carrying twin blades in her hands, did not give a fig about the Horde and Alliance combatants around her which by now all stared at her in amazement, not daring to interfere. The two Darkhounds suddenly appeared out of the mists, running at the leader of the kaldorei, but they were struck down by beams of moonlight which burned them out of existence. They didn’t rise again.

When the night elf stood only a short distance in front of Nathanos, she stopped, and they stared silently at each other for a while: on one side, the former kaldorei priestess with her by now strange dark eyes who had lost the home of her people to the malicious schemes of the Banshee Queen and on the other side Sylvanas’ ever smug, most trusted minion who had carried out many crimes at the will of his mistress.

Nathanos attacked first, striking at Tyrande with his axes, but she parried his strokes easily and turned upon him herself. At first, he narrowly escaped the kaldorei’s weapons, wielded elegantly by her hands like warglaives, but then – within seconds – the undead former Ranger Lord had been dropped to his knees, a sharp blade resting ever so lightly against his throat.

“Where is she?!”, Tyrande Whisperwind asked, loud and clear… and eerily calm.

Levaindil couldn’t hear Nathanos’ answer, for it was spoken only for the priestess to hear, but she was able to glimpse a hint of it in the kaldorei’s expression, her eyes rippling darkly in reaction to every word spoken, like stones dropped into a formerly undisturbed pond. A scowl curved her lips downwards, when she finally thrust the blade deeper into her quarry’s throat, her face still averted, gazing into the distance, unimpressed by the onlookers. The owl took flight, the flapping of its wings strangely loud in the unnatural night.

“For Teldrassil”, her almost whispered words still carried across the hill and Tyrande gave Nathanos’ corpse one last, bitter look, before she disappeared back into the mists, leaving a shocked silence.

Together with her, the fog – and the night – vanished, too, and Levaindil felt as if suddenly waking from a strange dream. Bustling broke out around them beneath the once again shining sun; people yelling in joy... or anger, some running to be the first ones to violate Blightcaller’s corpse, others coming together to discuss what just had happened, and some quickly leaving through mage portals or taking off towards the closest flight points.

“Did you see that?! She was amazing!” Acharin’s utterly fascinated voice dispelled the last remnants of the scene’s spell from Levaindil.

“She fought like a demon hunter! Her glaives have to be some of the most impressive weapons I’ve ever seen. She was so… strong!” He moved, his own warglaives in hand, mimicking Tyrande’s previous attacks.

“I… yes, I’ve seen it.” Baffled she blinked at her dear friend, while completely different emotions started to rise inside her, considering the past fight. Something had been off. No. So many things had been off. Why did it seem to her as if Blightcaller had reached exactly the goal he’d aimed for? Why hadn’t he fought back harder? Yes, Tyrande had grown strong, but instead of wasting one’s energy with words, someone actually fighting for their life would act at blade’s edge. What had he told her exactly? And she wasn’t even referring to the exact spoken words, but rather their wider meaning. And hadn’t Tyrande only done Nathanos a favor by killing him so swiftly? If Sylvanas actually was in the land of the dead, she had sent him right back to his mistress. Why hadn’t she tried to take him captive instead, to pry more information from him regarding the Dark Lady?

“Now that she knows how sweet revenge can taste, maybe she will finally understand Ma… Illidan’s motives for his choices”, Acharin went on, lost in his imaginary scenario, without noticing Levaindil’s lack of excitement, staring into the direction, where Tyrande had vanished before. “Maybe she will even return his feelings for her! She has changed. Illidan would be so proud if he could see her! Don’t you think?” He turned towards her.

Of course she’d heard of the tense love story between the two Stormrage brothers and the priestess of Elune. After Illidan’s return during the latest invasion of the Burning Legion, a lot of rumors and fantasies had fluctuated in certain circles. She just hadn’t expected Acharin to be interested in that topic, although, it involved his _Master_ , so….

The assessment moved Levaindil’s thoughts temporarily away from her speculations about Tyrande Whisperwind and to the person far more important to her. It was… astounding – to say the least – how Illidan Stormrage still managed to influence Acharin’s way of thinking out of the grave. Well, or down from the Pantheon, which ultimately resulted in the same, even though many Illidari – hers first among them – didn’t want to see it that way.

You never had the slightest chance to resist him, didn’t you? She thought in sympathy, which was accompanied by a hint of sorrow, while she examined her dear friend. His encounter with that elf had influenced his whole life irreversibly. Although, he actually hadn’t even changed that much through his transformation. As Valmin he’d had the same black hair and rather lean than muscular frame. Of course, now as a demon hunter the horns were new… and he’d lost his eyes which had always held so much enthusiasm… and kindness, and were now always covered by a black blindfold. His attitude wasn’t much different either. Valmin had showed eagerness too, but in Acharin this trait took a turn towards recklessness on occasion. Sometimes it worried Levaindil, but sometimes she also enjoyed its feral aspect. The one thing that always pained her though, were the moments in which he grew unusually silent, somberly brooding over something he refused to share with her. This behavior she hadn’t known from him before his transformation and it always made her wonder what price, aside from the obvious, he’d had to pay for his loyalty.

But if she had wanted to alter his fate, she would have already needed to keep him apart from Kael’thas Sunstrider. But back then, she would never have anticipated where their honored prince’s path would carry her friend off to. Maybe she should have gone with him. If she hadn’t been as strongly engaged with the farstriders back then and had already felt more prone to wander…. But that kind of thinking didn’t lead anywhere. She mentally shook her head and snapped back to the present.

Some distance off, Rael’nar and Shanara were just passing by with others of their previous group of combatants, pausing when they spotted them and pointing questioningly towards Crown Guard Tower. Levaindil waved at them, hoping they could read the “go on, we will follow you later” in her gesturing. The blond Illidari shrugged and they took off, while the huntress focused once more on Acharin.

Still wavering between amusement about his enthusiasm and worry about what was happening to the leader of the kaldorei, she carefully objected: “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

“About what?”

She gripped her braid of light brown hair, which was falling over her shoulder, and twirled it in her hand. She was hesitant to ruin his delight, but at the same time… to her, it seemed horribly out of place. “All of it, actually. Apart from the changing.”

“What do you mean?”, he asked, paying close attention to her words.

“Tyrande is different than before, yes. But I wouldn’t be so sure if that’s a change for the better”, Levaindil explained, “Something tells me, Illidan would be rather horrified by her current self, than… pleased.”

“Why?!”

“I… she has turned so dark… so cold.” She shuddered, remembering the look on Tyrande’s face when she had killed Blightcaller. “To me, it felt as if she is completely possessed by the thought of finding and killing Sylvanas.”

Acharin still seemed puzzled by her worries. “But… she just wants to avenge her people, right? There’s nothing wrong about that.”

“No, of course not, and I wouldn’t fault her for that”, she agreed and then explained: “It’s just… didn’t you see her eyes? After what I heard, Illidan loved Tyrande for her devotion and faith to their people… and Azeroth, right?”

Acharin nodded hesitantly.

“I couldn’t see anything of that in her today, only bitterness and coldness. After that, I wouldn’t be surprised to find out that she would sacrifice everything, just to get to Sylvanas… regardless of the price her people or Azeroth have to pay.”

The last remains of his former excitement fell from Acharin, and instead worried lines appeared around his mouth and brows. “In that case… we have to save her, right?”

“Maybe. But we can’t tell yet if she _actually_ needs any saving”, she reminded, so as not to embed this idea too strongly in his mind, “I was just stating my impression of what I saw today.”

“Oh, right. First we need to… gather some more information”, he flushed and tugged on an imaginary sleeve on his upper arm, “I guess I got a little carried away by my excitement.”

“No need to feel bad about that. I actually think it’s kinda cute. I hadn’t expected you to be such a... romantic, that you would get so passionate about Illidan’s love life.” She giggled teasingly, achieving the intended result, when his cheeks lost even more of their usual paleness. A sudden idea overcame her and she purred: “You know, I could go and search for an owl to tame as my pet. I would even be willing to dye my hair cyan like hers.”

A moment later she blushed herself though. She wasn’t quite sure, why she had suggested that. Or well, she did know, but it was… silly.

After her farstrider friends had started to actually believe in her relationship with an Illidari a few weeks back, they had swiftly turned rather… curious and very impudent regarding the whole matter. Horrible gossips! They had grown very interested in certain aspects of her contact with Acharin and had been incredibly disappointed and quite incredulous, when she had told them that she had nothing to share with them in that regard. At first, she had simply shrugged off the behavior of her friends. They were just hungry for delicate tattle and she was in no hurry. She already had her share of physical intimacy with various kinds of partners especially in the aftermath of a battle. Nothing stimulated one’s lust more than a successful fight for one’s life. But her relationship with Acharin was something completely different; instead of spontaneous desire it was based on long cultivated love. Still. She had to admit to herself that this sort of passion had been strangely absent between them so far, and she had no clue why. Maybe they just needed some… inspiration? It really was silly.

Already regretting her cheeky words, she examined him nervously, waiting with very mixed expectations for his reaction. His former innocent embarrassment first deepened further, but then slowly changed, and to her dismay into something rather pained.

“I’m not Illidan… and I never wanted to be him!” His posture grew tense and he avoided her gaze.

“I know, I know”, she hastily allayed, “I was only teasing you!”

“I only want to be myself”, he declared and then murmured more to himself than for her ears: “…even if I still don’t fully know who that is.”

She stepped beside him and slid a hand behind his neck, gently – and mindful of his horns – pulling him near, so that his forehead touched hers.

“Believe me, I am very, very grateful to have _you_ here with me, and _not_ … anybody else.”

That clearly eased his discomfort and after a while he first tenderly rubbed his nose against hers, before their lips slowly met, which actually turned into a far deeper kiss than they had shared in a while.

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The dialogue between Nathanos Blightcaller and Tyrande Whisperwind obviously doesn't belong to me, but instead originated in the "For Teldrassil" video by World of Warcraft, the same counts for the voice lines of Nathanos, which I compied directly from his boss encounter.


End file.
